


Tickle Fic

by asimpleword



Series: Septiplier Drabbles [10]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, Swearing, Tickling, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:10:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimpleword/pseuds/asimpleword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because every fandom needs at least seven of these right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tickle Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this piece of trash in like twenty minutes. Idk what I'm doing with my life.

“At least I didn’t almost fall off of my chair while recording like an idiot.” Mark sticks his nose up for emphasis and Jack launches a pillow at him with a loud laugh.

“Shut the fuck up you dick! Says the one who can’t even play fuckin’ Spore right.” Mark scoffs.

“In my defense-” Jack throws another pillow at him and Mark catches it right before it hits him in the face. He narrows his eyes, and Jack doesn’t like that look.

“The fook are you thinkin’?”

“How much of a ticklish little bastard you are.”

Jack tenses from the couch, across the living room from where Mark sat in the love seat.

“Don’t you fookin’ dare.” He growls, and Mark quirks one corner of his mouth up in a challenge.

“Why not?”

“I’ll kick your arse, that’s why.”

“Not if you’re too busy laughing.”

“Mark if you so much as poke me in the side-”

Mark shoots up off the love seat, and Jack darts up and out of the room in a split second, already expecting a chase. Mark follows nearly as fast, with boisterous laughter.

After a minute, Mark loses Jack in their large house, and slows to a walk. He pads quietly in his socked feet, slightly out of breath, and listens for Jack.

“Jack?” He calls. No answer.

He walks past the kitchen, and as soon as he does hears nearby quick footsteps. He spins around, and Jack is stood there, wide eyes blinking and body tensed to run. He grins and takes a step toward Jack, who takes a step back in return.

“You motherfucker-”

Mark rushes forward and in an instant Jack is back to running, whipping to the side sharply and taking the stairs several at a time. Mark is right behind him, but Jack is faster.

In his panic, Jack makes a wrong turn and curses loudly when he realizes he’s just trapped himself. Mark shuts the door behind them, and Jack spins to face him, eyes narrowed.

“Ye bastard if you touch me you will never see the light of day.”

“That’s cute.” He grins, tilts his head, and stalks forward.

“I’m fookin’ serious you asshole.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t secretly love it.”

“I don’t.” He bites, but Mark isn’t deterred in the slightest.

In a desperate attempt to escape, Jack darts around Mark when he’s only mere feet away, and gets caught by the waist, two familiar hands gripping the dip in his hipbones.

“Mark, you-” He bubbles with laughter, hands covering Mark’s fingers as they gently dig into the sensitive skin of his hips. He squirms and throws his head back on instinct, unable to gather the strength to stop Mark.

“Me?” He questions sarcastically, and Jack wants to punch him in his stupid face for torturing him like this.

“Let me g-go Mark!” He tries to keep his voice steady but it’s impossible, giggles ruining the playful threat.

“Why should I? I’m quite enjoying this.” He snickers with the widest possible grin, hands moving up to his sides and ribcage, fingertips dancing over clenched muscle. Jack reacts violently, curling in on himself and trying to get away as he failed to hold in his loud cackling.

“O-of course you are.” Jack stutters on the last word, breathless and still squirming in Mark’s hold. The raven haired man grinned in adoration at the ever so familiar sound of Jack’s contagious laughter.

Somehow, they both tumble to the floor, and Jack sprawls out, chest heaving. He’s still giggling, hands on his stomach as he catches his breath. Mark drags himself over to the Irishman, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Good?” He asks, and only receives a nod and weak slap to the stomach.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” Jack grunts. “M’ fine.”

He leans his head against Mark’s arm and breathes out loudly, eyes closed. He can hear Mark breathing, too; just as out of breath as he was.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before a hand sneaks it’s way into Jack’s and fingers slide their way between his own. He curls closer to Mark despite how hot he is, and squeezes his hand. Mark squeezes back, presses a kiss to his forehead, and Jack grins.

He really does secretly love it, after all.


End file.
